


Lord of Ice

by Noctem31



Series: Alone Together [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Big Brother Mycroft, Family Feels, Feels, Flashbacks, Hurt Sherlock, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Loneliness, Lonely Sherlock, M/M, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Mycroft Feels, Mycroft To The Rescue, Mycroft raised Sherlock, One Shot, Post-Wedding, Protective Mycroft, Protectiveness, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, The Holmes Parents are A Bit Not good, Upset Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 14:06:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13436367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noctem31/pseuds/Noctem31
Summary: Mycroft saved Sherlock from falling back into bad habits, and now has Sherlock under his roof in order to protect him from himself. What will happen when the past is revisited? When the roots of their broken relationship are addressed?-GO READ PREVIOUS ONE SHOT FIRST (End of an Era)





	Lord of Ice

**Author's Note:**

> Make sure you read the previous one shot (End of an Era) first!! This one shot will make more sense if you do! 
> 
>  
> 
> (Possible trigger warning)

That next morning, Sherlock woke to the sun streaming through the window of the overly grand bedroom Mycroft had given to him. He groaned as he rolled over. His muscles were stiff, and he was uncomfortable from falling asleep in his tuxedo the previous night.

He pulled himself out of bed and stretched, hearing his shoulders crack from all the altercations he had gotten into over the years. He looked to the end of his bed, spotting one of his suits, and a navy blue dressing gown. He quickly realized Mycroft must have sent someone to baker street to retrieve them for him.

Sherlock cringed when he thought about the night before. He had been an emotional disaster when Mycroft had found him, and he could only imagine what his brother would say today when he saw him. Probably something along the lines of ‘I told you so’, Sherlock though to himself. He needed to find a way out of this house as soon as possible to avoid the humiliation.

Sherlock picked up his clothing and trudged into the bathroom. 15 minutes later he had showered, and felt more like himself than when he first woke up.

He pulled on his dressing gown over his dress shirt to make it less obvious that he was trying to find a way to leave, and walked downstairs towards the library, where he knew his brother was most likely to be.

Sure enough, Mycroft was there, reading a book in one of his wingback chairs near the fireplace. The man looked up when he walked in, but otherwise stayed silent. Sherlock moved to sit in the other chair near the fire, and noticed how casually Mycroft was dressed compared to his normal attire. He was wearing simple black trousers, with a light blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Sherlock also noted the dark bags under his brother’s eyes, and the slightly slumped posture.

“Did you sleep?” He asked with a frown.

Mycroft closed his book and placed it on the table beside him. “Yes, but I was forced to stay up late to complete my work.”

Sherlock could tell he was lying, but he didn’t force the issue for once in his life. They both stared silently into the fire for a long while, and as more time went on, the more angry Sherlock became. Who did Mycroft think he was to stop him the previous night? He had no right to track his movements.

Sherlock internally scolded himself for allowing Mycroft to see him in such a state. He had been emotionally compromised, and because of that he had acted like an idiot in front of his brother. He had hugged him for god sake! He couldn’t remember the last time he touched his brother for any reason, and was rather disgusted with himself for doing so last night.

Mycroft sighed deeply, “What on earth is your problem?”

“I don’t need your help. I didn’t need you last night,” he replied coldly.

“So you would have prefered to have woken up in some crack den this morning instead of a bed? Is that what you are telling me?”

“Yes,” growled Sherlock. “I don’t need you, I never have. You disgust me.”

Mycroft momentarily looked like he had been slapped, but quickly cloaked himself in an air of icy indifference. “Fine then,” he stated in a blank tone. “Take care of yourself. I will no longer look out for you.”

With that, he stood from his chair and made his way from the library.

As Sherlock watched him go, images from their past flickered through his mind,

_Sherlock, age seven, sitting on Mycroft’s lap while their parents ignored them both._

_Mycroft teaching Sherlock the art of deduction on strangers who passed them in the park._

_Mycroft screaming at their mother to stop treating Sherlock like nothing more than dirt._

_Both brothers skipping rocks on the lake near their house, having a competition to see who could skip their rock the furthest._

_Mycroft picking up a crying Sherlock, and carrying him into the woods to play after their mother told Sherlock she had tried to have him aborted._

_The two of them sneaking out after dark to look at the stars on clear summer nights._

_Mycroft punching their father in the face after he slapped Sherlock for accidentally breaking a vase in the house._

_The memory of their mother calling Sherlock worthless, and Mycroft assuring him he wasn’t anything of the sort._

_Their father threatening Mycroft, telling him that if he didn’t stay away from Sherlock that he would ensure he didn’t receive a position in the government._

_Mycroft pretending to be distant with Sherlock when his parents were around, and then making sure to spend time with him when they were away._

_Sherlock becoming angry with his older brother for no longer standing up for him to their parents._

_Mycroft turning a blind eye when their mother screamed at Sherlock for over an hour, telling him she wished he had never been born, and that he had ruined their lives._

_Sherlock crying in Mycroft’s arms later that night until he was sick on the floor._

_Years later Mycroft’s form turned away from him, leaving for university as Sherlock sobbed and begged him not to leave him alone with their parents._

_Years of misery as Sherlock was forced to endure his parents abuse alone. Turning to drugs to cope with the pain._

_Praying to a god he didn’t even believe in for Mycroft to return and save him from the hell his parents created for him._

_The day he cried himself to sleep in the woods when he realized Mycroft was never coming back._

All of these memories flooded his mind like a tidal wave, and Sherlock was rather overwhelmed by it all.

He let out a shaking breath, and stood from his chair. He looked at Mycroft’s back as he neared the library door and said, “So that’s it then? You are abandoning me again?”

Mycroft stopped, and slowly turned back to him. “Isn’t that what you want?”

Sherlock shook his head as tears began to burn in his eyes. “Why?” He asked. “Why did you leave me with them?”

Mycroft looked shocked for a moment, so Sherlock continued,

“You left me with them even though you knew what they were like. You didn’t do anything to help me. We went from being inseparable, to being strangers. You forgot about me.”

“No,” replied Mycroft as he stepped closer. “I never forgot about you Sherlock.”

“Then why did you leave! Don’t you know what that did to me?”

Mycroft looked down at the floor, shame in his expression. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry didn’t save me Mycroft,” Sherlock said as tears began to run down his face. “I trusted you, I looked up to you. You were my savior, and then you left.”

“That was the biggest mistake of my life,” Mycroft whispered, still avoiding eye contact. “I deluded myself into believing that you would be okay, and that in order to be successful I had to leave. I have never regretted anything more than I regret not taking you with me. I made a mistake, the worst mistake of my life.”

Sherlock was shocked by that admission. Mycroft never admitted to making a mistake, never.

Mycroft looked up and met his eyes finally. “I am sorry Sherlock. More sorry than you will ever understand. Everyday I am nearly eaten alive by the guilt. I deserve your hate, that much is certain. But please know I am sorry.”

Sherlock just shook his head and sat back down in his chair. Tears continued to fall as he thought of the person his parents had turned him into. The cold hearted, detached bastard who walked through life alone.

He bent over, and put his face in his hands, and he heard footsteps approach him. He felt a strong hand on his shoulder, and listened as Mycroft said,

“I am sorry, brother mine. I left you, and I have been trying to make up for that all these years. I was young and arrogant, and because of that I made a mistake. I cannot change the past Sherlock, but I can promise you I will never abandon you again. I will always be here for you. You are my brother, and you are the only person alive today who I care for. I would give up my life if it meant you could be happy.”

Sherlock looked up into his brother’s eyes to see them shining with moisture. He could see the sincerity in his expression, and didn’t doubt his brother would take a bullet for him if necessary.

He looked down at his hands and whispered, “I would like to get back to that, you know. The relationship we used to have. I miss that.”

“I miss it too, and if that is what you want, we'll make it work.”

"Promise me you won't abandon me again." 

"I promise." 

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is greatly appreciated, so please leave comments! Thank you for reading! (Be respectful though please)


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